Paired Objective: Matched Desire, Book 2 (13 page)

Russ broke the moment by putting a hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the forest. “Let’s get out of the open. The Triplets are inside in case we need backup, but I don’t want to tempt fate given our bad luck lately.”

There were Triplets inside? Abby blinked. Then she glanced over her shoulder. “What about the van?”

“Cam will drive it around the back. There’s a dirt road a little ways down.”

Abby eyed the trees as they approached the deer trail. In the eleven years since the Invasion, the undergrowth had grown significantly, brushing the asphalt of the highway. Even with the afternoon sun beating down, there was plenty of darkness in the forest.

Darkness hid Barks.

“Let’s go around the back too,” she suggested, balking at the tree line.

“Can’t do that. We’re supposed to shield knowledge of this location from civilians. If you hadn’t been sleeping on the way here, we would’ve had to blindfold you.”

Despite the pressure at her back, Abby planted her feet, anger buoying her. “Fine, then blindfold me. Want me to sign a nondisclosure agreement too?”

“Abby—”

“Or we can do it verbally! I solemnly swear I’ll never disclose this location to any Russians, Barks, or spies,” she snapped. “I solemnly swear—”

Russ spun her around, cutting her off midsentence with a hard kiss. He tipped her back, cradling her head so that she was completely at his mercy, dependent on his strength to keep her upright. She opened to him as his tongue flicked out, stunned at how quickly arousal swept over her. The fabric of his shirt bunched between her hands as she clung to him, and her head felt fuzzy when he set her down again.

“Do you really think,” he said fiercely, “that I give a flying fuck about preventing you from finding out the location of this bunker? Do you think I give half a shit about bending over backward to follow every single piddling rule and regulation?”

“No?” Abby guessed. She stared into his eyes, which burned into hers from mere inches away.

“That’s right, I fucking don’t. But when it comes to you, I have to care. This is the kind of thing that might make a junior official get their panties in a wad—you knowing this bunker’s location. Then they escalate it to the scientists in charge of us, and
voila
, they’ve got ammo to banish you from the Complex.”

Abby breathed out, nodded.

“And if they banish you from the Complex, they might as well banish me and Cam too.”

She nodded again. Well,
there
was a way to state commitment.

“Excuse my French,” Russ said belatedly.

“I’ve heard worse.” She let him tuck her under his arm, though she tensed as they went out of the sunlight.

There were stories floating around about people accidentally stumbling across Bark burrows—enough stories for Abby to believe in them. Having lived the past few years of her life on the road, Abby considered herself hardier than most people, but the idea of stepping on top of a sleeping alien really squicked her out.

So she kept to the trail, walking single-file as it narrowed, although Russ kept hold of her hand. As they got deeper in, the trail branched in two and Abby resisted the absurd urge to quote Robert Frost as Russ chose the fainter path.

“Why are you so certain you want me to stay with you?” she asked, mostly to break the oppressive silence.

“There’s a theory that Twins have a kind of super-attraction to certain women,” Russ answered. “It’s something basic, possibly relating to scent. Pheromones, maybe. I think it runs a bit deeper than that, because after I tasted you, I felt like I couldn’t get enough.”

“Is that…coded into your DNA?” Abby knew enough about the Multiple Project to have a vague familiarity with the origins of the Twins.

“Possibly, although my personal theory is that it’s a bug, not a feature.” Russ started walking again, but not before she caught the bleak expression on his face.

Ouch. Dignity bruised, she winced. “If, um, you want me to wear perfume or something…”

“Why?” He whirled so fast, she stepped off the path and shrieked. Before she knew it, she’d catapulted herself into his arms and was perched halfway up, feet on his thighs, trembling.

No tentacles reached for her. No howls pierced the air. Still, her feet had touched
something
. She clung to Russ, paralyzed with fear.

The anger scrawled on his face lessened, turning to bewilderment. “What are you… What’s wrong?”

“Think-I-might-have-stepped-on-a-burrow.” The words tumbled out of her, half-garbled.

By the lightening of his expression, he understood perfectly. “You didn’t, baby. There’s too many roots around here for aliens to burrow.”

“Okay. Right. Cool.” Abby cast one last dubious glance into the dimness of the forest. Carefully, she disentangled herself from Russ, forcing herself to stand normally and not on her tiptoes. No burrows around here. None.

“What were you saying a minute ago about perfume?” Russ pressed.

“I can wear some?”

“Why?”

Her heartbeat was starting to slow down. Abby looked up at him, still breathing hard, then looked away with a shrug, still hurt. “You seem like you don’t want to be attracted to me. If it’s a problem, we can change it.”

“That’s not what I meant. At all.”

“Perfume is pretty easy to scavenge,” she went on, cutting him off. She wished she could step around him and continue walking, but she didn’t know the way. Wasn’t
supposed
to know the way. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled tomorrow and you can let me go scavenge somewhere. Then I’ll spray myself and we can move on.”

Russ was quiet, blocking the path in front of her. When she finally looked at him, she felt a pang of remorse. Anguish lined his face. He looked directly at her, the intensity of his gaze pinning her to the ground.

“I never asked to be created, but now that I’ve tasted life, I’m not sorry for it,” he said quietly. “I’m not sorry for being attracted to you either.”

When he turned, she followed him in silence. Several times, she opened her mouth to form an apology, but something about the way he strode forward was forbidding. What must it be like, knowing you were created for a specific purpose? That you were regarded as a tool first, human being second?

Plus, there was the whole attraction thing. She reciprocated the feeling—with both men—but maybe there were people who didn’t. Or couldn’t. That must be some kind of hell, being chemically attracted to someone who couldn’t love you back.

Or worse, loved your Twin but not you.

“Here we are.” Russ paused in front of a chain-link fence. It was rusty but relatively intact, which suggested this area didn’t see much alien action. Besides, it was a barrier designed to keep out humans, not Barks. The thin metal wouldn’t last long against their serrated teeth.

Unlocking a gate, Russ let her through, then clicked it shut again. On this side of the fence, she felt less psyched out about not walking on a path.
Roots
, she reminded herself.
They don’t like roots.

The first signs of human habitation were subtle—a vegetable patch in a small clearing. Enough sun trickled through for certain varieties of plants to thrive, and Abby supposed the chain-link fence kept out any vegetable-nibbling deer. She walked by the raised beds, wondering if Twins had been taught gardening skills or if they’d been forced into it after the Invasion along with the rest of the human population.

She’d certainly never learned how to tend chickens or grow potatoes in high school. Fortunately, Grammie had a green thumb, and Callum had been a Future Farmers of America member. She’d teased him mercilessly about that once upon a time, simultaneously amused by and proud of the ribbons he won for exhibiting his animals.

After the Invasion, however, Callum’s experience with chickens had come in handy. Abby shook her head. Maybe they should have stayed put instead of going on the road. They’d kept a small flock of chickens, four fat Rhode Island Red hens and a Bearded White Silkie bantam rooster.

That
combination had made for a few interesting offspring. Still, eggs were eggs, and they’d thrived for a time. But human-on-human crime in their area had risen steeply, so much so that her mother had deemed the road safer than hunkering down. Maybe she’d been right. The hell of it was she’d never know. Callum was dead, and Mom too.

“Abby.”

She realized with a start that she was standing still, staring into the near distance. Russ was walking back toward her.

“I’m fine,” she said, but he tucked her under his arm anyway, a comfort she couldn’t bring herself to reject. He guided her toward what looked like a pipe sticking out of the ground.

“Memories?” he asked.

“Uh-huh.” That was all she could manage, and Russ didn’t pry. Instead, he opened a hatch in the metal tube. The darkness within was almost palpable. She gulped as he stepped in.

“I’m going first in case you fall,” he said.

She might have argued with him if she hadn’t been so shaken. But her earlier scare convinced her to meekly go along with his plan. She copied him by descending backward, firmly gripping the sides of the ladder. Above her, the hatch swung shut with a muffled clang.

She expected the interior to be pitch-black, but to her surprise and relief there was a faint light somewhere beneath them. A few furtive touches told her she was in a narrow tube. The darkness lessened with each cautious step she took.

The stomp of Russ’s boots on concrete warned her that the ladder was about to end, and his hands closed around her waist, providing extra security. She was tempted to sag against him, but pride kept her upright.

The sole light flickered dimly in a corner, anemically yellow. Abby tried to swallow her consternation. The area was barely larger than a bathroom stall—speaking of which, it lacked those facilities as well. Wrinkling her nose, she stared around.

Beggars can’t be choosers
, she told herself. The place would keep them safe from aliens, at the very least.

A creak made her whirl. Blinking, she watched Russ turn a small wheel on the wall, a portion of which swung outward, submarine-door-style, to reveal a glimpse of a much larger interior. He stepped through the small door, bending almost double.

“Fancy-schmancy,” she muttered. To follow him, she had to duck too, all the while making sure she didn’t trip over the raised threshold. So
this
had been a politician party base? She couldn’t imagine the plump senators from Headquarters making it down that narrow ladder.

Russ shut the door as Abby stood still, getting used to the increased light. “There’s another entrance, but it’s blocked off,” he said almost apologetically.

“The better to prevent a Bark visit.” The lightly accented voice came from behind her.

Three dark-haired men lounged on a pair of couches, meeting her gaze with open curiosity. It was unclear who’d spoken—not that it would have mattered anyway, since she couldn’t tell them apart. Cam and Russ had their subtle differences now that she knew them, but these Triplets looked like trouble personified.

“Hi,” she said.

“Meet Valentino, Lorenzo, and Rocco,” Russ said, sounding distracted. “Guys, I need to go back up and help Cam.”

“Sure,” one of the men said. He patted the empty spot next to him, “Come sit down,
cara
.”

Abby warily obeyed, sinking into the plush cushions. Whoever furnished this place clearly hadn’t skimped. The living area was open-plan, with a respectable kitchen at one end and couches and chairs at the other. The floor was bare concrete, broken up here and there by thick rugs. An ancient projector hung from the ceiling, pointed toward a rolled-up movie screen.

“Not a bad place for a party,” Abby observed.

“It is now,” the man next to her said. Seeing her slightly raised eyebrow, he grinned. “I’m Lorenzo. There’ll be a pop quiz later, so remember that.”

She snorted. “So why’s it a bad place for a party?”

“There’s no alcohol left.”

Abby tsked. “Greedy politicians.”

There was a chorus of laughter, and she smiled in response, leaning her head back to stretch her neck. The ceiling was rounded concrete, typical of the older-style nuclear bunkers. Her gaze traveled across its expanse as she idly wondered how many tons of earth covered them.

“We checked everywhere,” another of the Triplets said. “Found a few bottles of champagne, a bunch of hard liquor and some beer, but eventually it all got swilled.”

Abby suddenly grinned. “Did you check up there?”

“Huh?” That was from Lorenzo. She felt the cushions depress as he followed her gaze.

She pointed to where the ceiling rounded down into the beginning of the wall. “See that square? There’s a spot exactly like that in the bunker at Headquarters. It looks solid, but it’s actually hollow.”

“No kidding?” That from the farthest man, who rose to peer upward. Even though he stood at a decent height—six foot three, maybe four, Abby estimated—he couldn’t reach the tiny handle.

Neither could the politicians or their lackeys back in Washington, DC’s bunker. But the servants could, since they often had cause to carry ladders around. Nobody questioned an eyes-down person carrying a ladder and cleaning rags.

“We used our space to smuggle messages out of Headquarters.” That was how she’d gotten word to Grammie. She’d enclosed money inside an envelope, addressed it to Gina and tucked it inside the compartment. As a soldier-turned-delivery person, Gina had the freedom to come and go from Headquarters. They’d struck up a kind of casual friendship born out of mutual hatred for the senators. Gina made decent money by delivering letters on her travels, so when she’d mentioned she was taking a trip west via Scar City, Abby had jumped at the chance to have a letter delivered to Grammie.

“Can’t quite reach it,” Valentino muttered.

“It’ll haunt us for the rest of our days if we don’t open it up,” Lorenzo said. He looked sidelong at Abby. “Will you fit on his shoulders?”

She laughed. “Um. I guess?”

That was all the impetus Valentino needed, apparently. He scooped her up, setting her atop his shoulders as if she weighed no more than a kitten. Torn between amusement and indignation, Abby grasped his hair for balance and reached up with her other hand. Her fingertips grazed the handle of the compartment before finding purchase. Plaster fell away and long-disused hinges creaked as she pulled open the door.